


Chocolate or Caramel?

by blondeofthecentury (orphan_account)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Coffee Shops, its cheesy i know, oh well
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-15 14:09:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11807553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/blondeofthecentury
Summary: You work at a coffee shop in the middle of the city and you begin to notice an Irish man who is always nicely dressed start to frequent the shop that you own. As it happens, you aren't the only one to notice the other.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chybi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chybi/gifts).



You hand a customer their coffee and bid them a good day before going to the counter to take the next person's order when you see a familiar form pass by the shop window. This man had started coming to your shop every morning at the exact same time a few months ago. This wasn't abnormal, you had several frequent customers. So what made this man special? He always came in at precisely the same time every morning, almost down to the second. You supposed he had a busy schedule and couldn't come in any other time. He approaches the counter, looking down at his phone and tapping away at it the same way he did every other morning he came in.

You put on a bright smile, "Hi, how can I help you?" you asked the same way you did every morning.

He barley glanced up at you, "I'll have my usual."

You nod and start to ring him up before pausing, "How would you know if I knew your usual or not?"

Now he _did_ look up, but with a smirk, "You did start to ring it up before asking me."

He did have a point.

"Yes, I do."

Oh. You had said that out loud.

He chuckled, "Yes you did."

You bite your lip in embarrassment, "Oops."

The man gives you half of a smile, "Tell you what. I won't tell anyone if you do me a favor."

"That depends on the favor," you say.

"Smart girl. Your end of the bargain would be dinner with me."

You raise your eyebrows, "That's awfully bold for a man who just assumes that I know what coffee he usually gets every morning."

"But I don't assume things, love. I know them." He winks.

You feel your face heat up and clear your throat, "I-I'll have to think about it."

The man pulls out a business card and hands it to you, "That's my personal number. Just call when you make up your mind."

You take it with a single nod and slip the card into your pocket without looking at it and tell him the price of his coffee.

He hands you twenty pounds and grins when you go to give him the change, "Keep it."

You tuck the change in your pocket and go behind the counter to make the iced coffee that he always gets with either chocolate or caramel, but never both. You realize that you didn't know what he wanted this morning and go on your tiptoes to look over the coffee machines and the glass partition to look for him. It's only when you find him that you realize you don't know his name. You take the card out of your pocket and look at the name printed on it in neat black lettering above a phone number. 

You go back on your tiptoes and call his name, "Jim!"

He looks up from his phone expectantly, "Yes?"

"Chocolate or caramel?"

"Surprise me," he tells you with a smirk decorating his face.

You fall back on your heels and think about it for a moment before choosing a random one. It didn't really matter anyways. After all, it was just coffee.

XXX

You get home after closing the shop and kick off your shoes and pull off your socks and go into your kitchen to look for something to eat. You end up making yourself mac n' cheese and sit down at your kitchen table to eat your dinner. It suddenly strikes you how lonely it is in your apartment. It was just you. No pets. Not even a plant to try not to kill and fail at your attempt of having a green thumb. You chew thoughtfully and think about getting a pet. You would love to get a dog, but you weren't home enough to get one and you didn't much care for cats (sorry if your'e a cat person). You had tried to get a fish once a couple years ago, but you could only afford a goldfish and it died two weeks after you'd bought it. The more you thought about it, you realized why you were so lonely: all you did was work. You didn't have a social life outside of your shop. It's not like you couldn't have one, but you're always either at the shop or doing something for the shop like making sure you had all the supplies you need and keeping up with your finances. You sigh and go to take care of your dishes when you feel something pointy poke your leg. You put your hand in your pocket and pull out a slightly crumpled business card with the name "Jim Moriarty" printed on it. After placing your dishes in the sink, you tap the card on your finger, thinking as you walk toward your bedroom to get ready for bed. You didn't know what time it was, but you knew it was late. If you called him, the worst thing that could happen would be that he doesn't answer and you have to leave a voicemail. That might be preferable, actually. You finally just roll your eyes at yourself and pull your phone out of your back pocket and dial the number. You didn't think there would be any harm in one date, but there was still that small voice in the back of your mind that hesitated, as though it was some how a bad idea to call the attractive Irish man that had been frequenting your shop for the last few months, as though it would put you in danger. You shrug it off and hit the call button. After all, it was just dinner. What was the worst that could happen?

The line only rang twice before the smooth voice picked up on the other end of the phone, "Hello?"

"Hi, Jim?" Your heart pounds a little faster all of the sudden when you realize that you're actually doing it.

"Yes?" He sounds slightly impatient, but you figured he was busy. If the constant wearing of suits was any indication, he was a business man of some sort.

You start to twist your hair around your finger nervously, "It's (Y/N). From the coffee shop? You gave me your card."

"Oh, yes. It's a little late for a call to a stranger, don't you think, love?" he asks.

You give a small laugh, "Yeah, I know, I just figured 'why the hell not'."

You hear chuckle on the other end, "So to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I thought about your proposition for dinner sometime," you tell him.

"Oh? And what's your decision?" you could imagine him raising an eyebrow in inquiry.

"what should I wear?"


	2. Chapter 2

 

You mess with your hair for about the hundredth time in the last five minutes. It had been a week since you had agreed to go on a dinner date with one Jim Moriarty and tonight was the fateful night that the two of you could fit into your busy schedules. After all, that coffee shop wasn't going to run itself. You huff, blowing a stray hair that had fallen in front of your eyes out of your face. You had a fluttery feeling in your stomach. Normally you would chalk it all up to nerves, but there was something else underlying that. A sense of foreboding that you couldn't understand. He seemed nice enough. He had even started to talk to you while you made him his morning coffee and tipped you generously every day. You smooth the front of your dress and check your phone for the time. He should be there any minute. You check your makeup one more time in the mirror as three sharp, precise knocks sound from your door. You rush out of your bathroom, hitting the switch to turn off the light on your way, and hurry to the door, so as not to make him wait too long. You open the door a little breathlessly with a smile and stare wide-eyed at what Jim was holding in his hand.

"Is this too much?" he asked worriedly.

Your smile widens, "Not at all. It's beautiful." You take it when he holds the single (f/f) out to you and take a step back, opening the door a little wider to let him in, "Come on in. I'm going to go put this in water."

Jim comes in and looks around as you pad barefooted into your kitchen and get a vase for the flower he had given you. You glare at it from where it sat, just beyond your reach.

You hear him chuckle, "Need some help, darling?"

You give a sheepish smile, "If you wouldn't mind."

"It's no problem at all." he reaches up and grabs it with ease and hands it to you.

"Thank you," you go to the sink and lean over to your left to grab the pair of scissors that were always there and cut the stem of the flower under the running water of the tap to get it to the right length for your vase. That being done, you fill the vase with water and carefully move it and the (f/f) to the counter that divides your kitchen from your dinning room and put the flower in the vase. "Okay, I'm ready to go." You announce triumphantly, turning to face Jim.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" he asks with an amused look on his face.

You think for a moment, "No, I don't think so."

He raises an eyebrow and looks down.

You follow suit and see what he was talking about. "Ah. Right. I suppose shoes would be a good idea."

"I agree."

You get your shoes and slip them on, using the wall to keep your balance and then grab your small purse that holds your phone, mad money, and a way to identify yourself if the need arises. "Okay, now I'm ready."

"Are you sure?" he teases.

You stick your tongue out at him and go to the door, grabbing your keys on your way out and locking the door behind the two of you. "So where to?"

"You'll see." He puts his hand on the middle of your back and you silently thank whatever god is out there that he didn't go any lower like a creep.

You let out a little huff, but don't push it. You half-hated-half-loved surprises anyways. You didn't think it would be a bad surprise. Jim was too.... you didn't have a word for it exactly. But you did know that he had a good heart. (deep deep deep deep deep down.... maybe? am i the only one?) He opened the door for you when you got to the car and when you got to your destination. Where was Mr. Jim Moriarty taking you for your first date? One would expect him to take you to some five star restaurant, yes? No, no. He took you somewhere else entirely.

You raise an eyebrow at him, "Really? Mini golf?"

He grins, "Well I thought about going to a nice restaurant, but then I thought that you might like this instead."

"And you don't think we're a little over-dressed for this?" You give a soft laugh and a disbelieving smile.

"Relax. You look extraordinary," he puts his hand on your back again as he leads you to the rental table to get the needed supplies. 

You tug at the bracelet that you wear on your left wrist as he does so and bite your lip, suddenly as nervous as a school girl going on her first date. It made sense. You hadn't been on a date in ages. By the time you reached the fifth hole, it was very evident that Jim was not too shabby at mini-golf. You, on the other hand, were. You had both made it to a little green path with annoying things blocking the direct path to the hole that you need to aim at. Jim set his ball down and hit it once. It ricochets a few times and then lands exactly where it needs to.

You huff, "How do you do that? I can't even get it to go anywhere close to where I want it to."

"Would you like some help?" he gives you an amused half-smile.

You set your jaw, "No. I can do it by myself." You say confidently.

As it turns out, no, you couldn't.

"Here," Jim comes up behind you and puts his hands over yours. He carefully lines up the little green club and hits it gently. A perfect shot. After the well-used red ball clatters into the little hole, you suddenly become aware of how close Jim is to you. His chest is flesh against your back and when you look back at him you see him already staring at you intently. You carefully step out of the fold of his arms and tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear, embarrassed, looking at his shoes, and slightly surprised to find him wearing converse, "Erm, th-thanks."

"Anytime," he says softly, looking at you the same way he had been when he was holding you.

You fiddle with your bracelet again, "So, onto the next one?"

"If you like."

By the time your finished with your round of mini-golf, the two of you were laughing like old friends, swapping funny stories that were slightly embarrassing. You return your mini-golf supplies and then walk around a little bit. After a few minutes you hold onto a wall and take off your shoes.

"Everything alright?" he asks.

You nod, "Yeah, I just forgot that these shoes kill my feet."

He toes off his own shoes and takes yours out of your hand, "Wear mine instead. They're probably more comfortable, anyways."

"No, Jim. It's alright. Put your shoes back on. I walk around barefoot all the time,"  you object, reaching for your shoes.

He holds them just out of reach, "No, (Y/N). I insist."

You glare at him, "Fine. Thank you." you slip his shoes on over your feet.

"You are very welcome," he holds out his hand to keep you steady while you put on his shoes. Even after you're steady on your feet, he keeps hold of your hand. You don't pull yours away, either.

He takes you to a little cafe that stays open late and the two of you eat dinner before he walks you to your flat.

You both stand in front of the door and you give him an awkward smile, "I had fun tonight. It's been a while since I've done something like this."

"What, had fun?" he chuckles.

"Been on a date," you admit.

He nods, "Well maybe you could go on another one sometime soon." he gives you a cheeky smile.

You raise your eyebrows with an amused smile, "Maybe. We'll have to see, won't we?"

"You should probably get inside, love. It's getting late," he advises.

"Yeah. Good night, Jim." You open the door to your home and start to step through.

"Oh, (Y/N)?" he calls right before the door closes.

You look back at him expectantly, "Yes?"

"I need my shoes back, darling." 

Your mouth forms an "O". "Right. Yeah. Sorry. I'd almost forgotten." You take them off and nudge them over to him with your toes, taking your own shoes when he hands them to you, "And, um, thanks for that, too."

"Not a problem. Good night, love."

"Goodnight, Jim." You gently push the door closed until you hear a soft  _click_ and turn the bolt to lock it, closing your eyes and biting your lip, letting out a little giggle.


End file.
